


I Miss You

by sasha_b



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-12
Updated: 2013-07-12
Packaged: 2017-12-19 05:17:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/879883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sasha_b/pseuds/sasha_b
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spoilers for "The Dark Tower."  The tent scene, different.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Miss You

**Author's Note:**

> for comment fic prompt, "I miss you."

"Why don't you just hit me? Kill me? What's stopping you?"

Bass is trussed like a Thanksgiving turkey, Miles thinks. He cracks a lopsided smile; Bass' face remains twisted and angry. Now is not the time to get nuts.

Night is fully upon them, and any minute the turncoats of Monroe's militia will be there, following Tom Neville (that bastard still), guns in hand to kill their former leader. Miles' mind wanders a bit; would that be such a bad thing? Can he just leave Bass to his deserved fate? Can he let his oldest and dearest friend - now his worst enemy - be slaughtered in ways he doesn't want to imagine? Ask him out loud; he'd say yes in a heartbeat. He's spent several months and many miles just trying to get to this point, to this place where Bass is there in front of him, no weapons, no way of escape. It should be his best dream come true. He doesn't smile, however. He fingers his gun and narrows his gaze on the other man. The man whose hands are so red with the blood of anyone that has gotten in his way.

Anyone that has gotten in Miles' way. His brother. His friend. His nothing, now.

Right.

The tent moves with the slight wind; Miles worries about Charlie - he always worries about Charlie - and Rachel inside the Tower, and he cocks the gun and turns, pointing it at Monroe.

"Nothing," he answers. He feels sweat slick its way down his spine, his jacket sticking to him, his longish hair flopping to cover his left eye. He leaves it there. It's ridiculously hot, and the image of sizzling turkey guts flits through his brain, the weird smile crossing his face again.

"Do it!"

The shout is shocking and the tears that fill Bass' wild eyes - so expressive, always, hurtful, beautiful, familiar - even more so. "Nothing's in your way this time, Miles. Just do it."

Miles gives Sebastian Monroe credit; he never backs down. Even when angry and more scared than Miles has ever seen him in his life.

He licks dry lips, hand never wavering. He thumbs back the hammer.

Silence. Not even crickets.

He thinks about Emma, and remembers the betrayal he'd felt -

he thinks about the militia, and the day of the blackout -

he thinks about Bass and him and thunderously warm summers and swimming and laughing and their arms about one another and time spent together, just the two of them -

he thinks about Bass' smile, the way it spreads from his mouth up his cheeks to his grey/green eyes and -

he thinks about how he couldn't kill Bass the first time. He sighs, and it carries all the weight of everything he's felt since meeting Charlie and since he'd found out Ben had died, and the weight of it all - his shoulders bent, broken, his heart half torn out being on his own in this ridiculous world, alone, without -

"Fuck you, Miles."

He uncocks the hammer and lowers the gun, reholstering it.

Coming up behind Bass in his chair, he slips his bowie knife from his trousers and lifts it, Bass' face empty of everything except one thing.

He slices through the ropes that hold the other man in place. The frogs and crickets sing loudly now; he figures they have a few minutes before Neville shows up with men in tow.

Bass' hands swing around in front of him; he flexes them, blood pooling in his fingers as he closes his eyes momentarily, his crazy curls shadowed by the small amount of light they have in the tent.

_his arms around you, your foreheads together, bodies hot and twined together and peace for both of you, for once, peace in the quiet of each other_

Miles stands and bites the inside of his jaw. "Run."

Bass stands too, and looks at the tent opening, and then at Miles.

"Why?"

"Because," Miles starts, then takes the few steps that separate them. He grips Bass' hair in his fingers, the strands dirty and stiff and he snarls and shakes his head and fights against this thing in his hand that's _his_ and has been for as long as he's been alive.

"Just do it."

He forces himself to let go. Bass lets the tears he's been holding in slip free and ducks under Miles arm and is gone, Miles blinking and shutting his eyes in his wake.

He sees the cemetery where Bass' family is buried, and he sees the other man's face crumple and he swears and slips out of the tent himself, the trees providing a perfectly good hiding place as he edges toward the Tower and Rachel and Charlie and Norah and he lets _I missed you_ drift away on the hot air that blows his limp bangs off his forehead.


End file.
